Fuckin’ Around (and “Married”)

Regardless whether you’re 25 or 55, when you think you’ve passed that plateau with a guy and entered into “relationship” territory, chances are you and he vow to be loyal to one another and only one another forever. And I’m sure, at least I hope, there’s a certain percentage of guys where that works. Unfortunately, the cynical side of me thinks that for many, if not most of us, the day arrives when bedding down with the same body all the time becomes, well, boring, and sooner than later we’re on the prowl again. Only some of us want our cake and eat it too. The stability of a relationship and the freedom of a whore. And this includes guys who are truly “married” legally.

Enter infidelity, cheating, or in gay (and straight) vernacular, “fuckin’ around on the side.”

Now, how you define cheating depends on what rules you go by, or better yet, whose.

Open relationships usually begin with guys pledging only to screw around as an unbreakable, non-negotiable unit. You know who I mean, the belt loop boys who cling on to one another in the bar or at IML, or cruise the sex clubs or bath houses or the web as a pair.

But this illusion of fidelity may only last so long or work only for so long for one part of the partnership. Threesomes sound naughty but, in reality, can become troublesome if one partner prefers New Guy over his seasoned bed partner. It’s hard to fight favoritism when you’ve got that fresh hairy butt hole in your face. That’s why “wedded” duos who are smart play in anonymous arenas or on trips where New Guy fades faster than a post-cum hard-on. It’s when such liaisons happen closer to home that temptation can lead to twosomes on the side. Eventually, something has to give. Either partners agree to give one another space just as long as new guys aren’t visible (no calls at home, trysts at his place not their place), or the relationship collapses.

Now, closed relationships have their own set of advantages and problems. One guy in the relationship is getting itchy, or isn’t getting it at home as much as he’d like, or at all anymore (hey, libidos aren’t always in sync). But he sees value in maintaining the relationship for other reasons: emotional support, companionship, economics (like splitting the rent or mortgage) or just having someone to come home to to argue with. Beats sloppy licks from your poodle.

But he understands his partner well enough to know that even bringing up the subject of side sexcapades could mean an end to the relationship. So begins the deceit: the work-outs at the gym when the only exercise he’s getting is fucking someone’s ass; the late nights at work; the out-of-town family visits or business trips. Guys in closed relationships never leave their smartphones on when home or when they’re with their partner, almost always communicate with their liaisons by text or e-mail, and are always ready with a back-up lexicon of excuses to cover their ass.

But why, oh why, do we stray in the first place? It makes life so complicated, doesn’t it? Physical release and warm flesh aren’t the whole story, not when you can get off in seventeen uncivilized minutes with xtube, some porn, or a fleshlite, and not even have to use mouthwash. (It’s a fact: 17 minutes is the average length of a sexual encounter.) No, I think the real culprit is our insatiable need for an ego kick, to lust and be lusted after. All fun, no strings.